Teach Me About Freedom
by Lady of the Green Kirtle
Summary: Postwar Harry/Pansy. Harry and Pansy discover that maybe they aren't so different after all. I know, horribly cliche. Please read it anyway!
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

 **Hey, guys! This is an idea I had, not really sure how it's going to work. Rated for Language and implied sexual content. I have the next couple of chapters written, and it's not really going anywhere. It's pretty angsty. Happy reading! Please review!**

 **-Lady of the Green Kirtle**

Song Selection: Dark Side (Kelly Clarkson)

Pansy is sick of pity. At her trial, she stands there, alone in the courtroom, as the Minister and a bunch of Weasleys decide if she's guilty. They glare at her, a clan of hostile carrots, while she tries not to cry. She sticks her chin up into the air and stares them down. Hermione Granger, still a know it all, still frizzy haired, still a mudblood, stands up and makes a whole speech about Pansy's "blood prejudice" and her "father's affiliations" and her "relationship with known Death Eater, Draco Malfoy" and the whole time Pansy just has to sit there. The room is almost choking with rightousness and she wants to leave. She can't though or she'll go right to Azkaban. Never mind that she doesn't have the Mark. Never mind that she and Draco aren't in a relationship. Never mind that she doesn't even like her father. No, no, no. Pansy is a Slytherin. So she's being tried for the equivalent of murder. Finally, it's her turn to talk. She stands up and they ask her pointed questions.

"Is it true, that during the Battle of Hogwarts, you volunteered to give up Mr. Potter in exchange for your life?"

"Yes." She smiles coldly and chooses her words carefully. Aiming them like a knife, to bury carefully in someone's flesh. "He's only a half-blood anyway. What do you care?"

The dumpy red haired woman gasps and hisses at her. Actually hisses, like a cat.

Pansy smiles her sweetest smile.

"Is it true that you aided Severus Snape in the unlawful seizure of the School of Hogwarts?"

"Of course." Pansy raises an eyebrow. "When the other option was Professor McGonagall, known supporter of that doddering fool Dumbledore, it wasn't really a difficult choice."

"Dumbledore was noble!" growls Hermione, glowering at the slender, blonde, Slytherin Princess.

"Oh yes. Of course he was." Pansy sneers. "Showing blatant favoritism between students, sending children out to fight a war against their own parents, forcing some self sacrificing idiot like Potter to be his absurd little figurehead!"

Her words ring out in the silent hall and all the Weasleys look at her in shock.

She snaps.

"Send me to Azkaban, I don't care! Send me to Azkaban for refusing to attack my own mother, my childhood friend, the Dark Lord himself! Send me to Azkaban for being a bully! I'm sure you can make up a special law, just for me, about putting innocent people with bad families in prison! Go ahead," she hisses, "Be _NOBLE."_ The last word is almost a shout, something that she'd thought was drilled out of her a long long time ago. She's shocked at herself. And furious. She cracked. That is not supposed to happen to the Slytherin Princess.

She's even angrier, when she catches Harry Potter looking at her, surprised at her language.

The Minister swallows hard, and, rather awkwardly announces that there are no charges against her, and she's free to leave. She smiles, a diligently bleached, deliberately bland, cold little pureblood princess smile. She can practically hear the opinions of the Weasleys shriveling.

Harry Potter is still staring at her.

Pansy walks out of the courtroom, heels clicking, blonde hair still in an immaculate updo. No one sees how defeated she is.

She isn't just stupid.

She isn't just pretty.

She isn't just selfish.

Pansy's mother always said that that's what men like. It's what Draco liked.

Is that all she'll ever be?


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Sorry, guys, this is frightfully short, but it is what it is. Read and review please!**

Later, Pansy's wearing a silvery dress that barely covers the tops of her thighs and she's crouched down over Blaise, who's sitting against the wall and he's sobbing. He's having a goddamn breakdown in a frat house.

She has an arm around him, and his head is heavy against her shoulder and his tears are running down her neck. He's drunk out of his mind and sentimental, and he's started thinking about Theo, always a recipe for disaster.

She doesn't understand why they're even still together. All they seem to do is cry and talk about the war and get drunk and make out while female college students cheer them on. Pansy doesn't see the point but whatever.

And then, out of nowhere, Harry fucking Potter shows up. He's all black hair and green eyes and he's glaring at her and Blaise. Or maybe just her.

"What's up with him?" He yells over the pounding beat of the music. She stares him down.

"I wouldn't think you care." She shouts. "Death Eater and all." He grabs her arm and childishly, she pulls it away. He grabs her again, roughly, and hauls her and Blaise out of the party into the street. Blaise leans against a wall and fumbles with his phone, muttering something about Theo and apologies.

Harry Potter is staring at her with wide eyes. She scowls at him, red lipstick and short blonde hair, and he gives her a glare in return.

"Look, Pansy," He begins.

"Only my friends get to call me that." She interrupts coldly, aware of her own ridiculousness, but really not wanting a conversation with The Boy Who Lived right now.

"Fine. Parkinson. What are you doing here?"

"I'm picking up Blaise." She replies, suspiciously. She tilts her pretty head and asks "Why?"

"What's with him?" Harry Potter asks instead.

"He and Theo had a fight. He's a bit of a mess, actually. I was going to take him home to Daph."

"Daph?"

"Daphne Greengrass. I wouldn't expect you to know her. She's probably a Death Eater too, after all, she was in Slytherin." Pansy snips.

Harry Potter looks frustrated.

"Here, let me take you there. I feel like we should talk about today." He says. She really doesn't want to and knows it shows on her face. "I have a ca-ar," he cajoles. She gives in, but only because she really needs to get Blaise into a controlled environment. Preferably not in her responsibility.

"Fine. Take us to Daph, Harry Potter." She smiles brightly, and digs in her bag for her phone.

Blaise groans weakly and throws up.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry, guys, I know this is late, but I've been caught up with things. Like an immense amount of homework. Happy Rosh Hashanah! Please read and review!**

Harry's car is a minivan, which Pansy finds funny in a really sad sort of way. Pansy doesn't even have a car, she just apparates everywhere, and here Harry Potter is with a freaking minivan. He helps her shove Blaise in the back, where Blaise sits and giggles and tries to text Marcus. Harry actually holds the car door open for her. It's sad that she appreciates it, she thinks. The mighty have fallen, indeed.

The car ride is so awkward, what with Blaise being weird in the back, and Harry giving her these pitying looks and making uncomfortable small talk about the weather or something. Pansy isn't really listening. She's at that point where you answer automatically with no idea of the conversation topic. She smiles painfully at him when they reach Daph's house. Well, Draco and Astoria's house that Daph basically lives in. She shoves Blaise out the door and up the steps of the mansion. Not Malfoy Manor, but almost the same size. Draco opens the door and stares her down. She shakes her blond hair out of her eyes, knowing that her dress is slipping down her shoulder and acutely aware of Harry Potter's eyes on them. Draco glares.

"Pansy, you can't keep fucking doing this." He snaps. "I don't want you to dump any more problems on my steps. It upsets Tori."

Ouch. Pansy feels her heart throb. She still almost can't believe Draco's married. Sure, it happened a year ago. Sure, she and Draco hadn't been together for almost two years before that. Sure, she was Tori's fucking bridesmaid. Still though. The whole ceremony, she kind of thought he might turn away from Tori and tell Pansy he loved her. For real.

He didn't.

"I don't know what you expect me to-" Pansy's back is up, and she's furious to feel her nose starting to feel funny, like she might cry. Pansy bites her lip and stares at Draco. It's unfair that he's still so beautiful. And so taken.

Pansy did everything right. Everything.

She supported him, and told him he was a good Death Eater (He wasn't.). She kissed him in public, did whatever he asked, wore very little makeup and conservative skirts. Met his mother, for God's sake. But in the end he wanted someone who'd never killed. Or cried in the bathroom because the Gryffindors were calling her a slut. Or wished that maybe he could man up a little.

"Stop. Just stop." Draco sighs. "Tori needs her sleep, what with the baby and all…"

"The what?" Pansy wonders why there isn't enough air on the steps all of a sudden. She is gripping Blaise's shirt a lot harder than necessary now.

"Baby." Draco looks at her funny. "Didn't Tori invite you to her shower? About a month ago?"

"No." Pansy says quietly. "I guess she forgot." Draco looks like he doesn't know what to say. Pansy feels weak like a crumpled tissue. A tissue that no one wants. She gathers the shreds of Pansy littering the steps, thrusts Blaise at Draco and turns to leave.

"Pansy?" Draco says.

"What?" Her voice is ragged and painful. She sounds pathetic and it kills her. Kills her that she's letting him know he can still hurt her.

"I just- I didn't mean-" He sounds helpless. "I didn't know she didn't invite you. I- She told me you declined."

It's not an apology. She knows that.

She wants it to be though.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Sorry it's late, guys. Life's been crazy busy! Enjoy!**

As Pansy gets back to the car, she wants a distraction. Badly. Harry Potter holds open her door again and she hops in. Her silver dress is making it's way down her shoulders. He keeps sending little glances at her collarbone. She smirks.

"Where to?" He asks her.

"My flat, I guess." She gives him directions. About halfway there he makes a comment.

"I always sort of thought you and Malfoy would, you know," He remarks.

She sucks in a breath. It's incredibly loud in the quiet of the car. Pansy clenches her jaw and shakes her head quickly.

"He married Astoria." She finally says. "Obviously."

She can't believe she put that 'obviously' in. God, she's a mess tonight. How desperate can she BE?

"When did you guys split? Didn't seem very amicable." He asks. She glowers.

"How is this your business in any way, shape or form?" She spits. "My relationship with Draco is nothing you need to concern your pretty little heroic head about."

They're at her flat now, and she's glad because she's about to hex Harry Potter's ears inside out. She hops out. Storms towards the stairs. Doesn't bother to thank him, after all he asked her plenty of invasive questions to make it worth it.

Once she gets inside she sees Marcus Flint pinning a slight Asian girl to the wall. She rolls her eyes.

"Marcus!" She snaps. "How many times do I have to tell you that this is a _common space_!" She is completely fed up with his conquests helping him christen every room in the flat. She clicks down the hall, a little wobbly, and bangs on the bathroom door.

"Coming!" Tracey's voice rings out. She stumbles out a moment later, wrapped in a purple towel with a green herbal mask smeared on her face. Steam frosts the mirrors and gusts out as she exits. Tracey examines Pansy and sighs. "Draco? Again?"

"Leave it." Pansy growls, sliding into the bathroom. By the time she emerges, makeup free and wearing an oversize t-shirt, Marcus and his girl are nowhere to be seen and Tracey can be heard in her room, blasting Taylor Swift. Pansy stumbles down the hall to her room.

Flops onto her unmade bed.

She has thirty seven texts. One of them is from Draco.


	5. Chapter 5

She isn't going to read it.

She won't.

It's a pride thing.

He doesn't deserve that from her. Feeling strong, she hits delete. Immediately, she regrets it, yelling "wait, no, no, no!"

It's too late.

She picks up the phone, texts Daphne.

 **draco txted me**

 _omg_

 **yea.**

 _hes been storming around_

 _yelling at tori_

 _shes pissed_

 **she didn't invite me to her shower**

 **he thought she did tho**

 _wtf_

 _my sister is such a bitch_

 **she hates me**

 **cuz draco almost married me**

 **u kno?**

 _well yea_

 _oh shit shes coming_

 _tori i mean_

 **daph**

 **i deleted the text**

 **the one from draco**

 _WHY_

 _you are so stupid sometimes_

 **just find out what it said**

 _fine_

 _i hate u_

 _i have to talk to draco now_

 **you live in the same house**

 _dont remind me_

Pansy sighs. It's so late, and she's too tired to deal with this. Her head feels heavy on her neck and even her purple nail polish looks exhausted, chipping sadly off her big toe. She falls back on her bed.

The sheets are smudged with mascara and they smell like her perfume. She keeps forgetting to wash them.

Right now though, she's just so tired.

So, so tired.

 **A/N: This is a transitional chapter, so it's ridiculously short. I'm just trying to keep it structurally separate from the other chapters though, so here it is. A baby chapter if you will.**


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning she's up, clumsily scooping coffee mix into the coffee maker. She wanted one of those tidy little Keurig things, with the little cup things you stick in the machine, but Tracey said it was too expensive. And Pansy REALLY didn't want to have to get a job to pay for a coffee maker. She stares dumbly at the little display for a minute. Normally, Marcus makes coffee and leaves it out. She isn't sure if she's ever actually made coffee on her own. She tentatively pushes a button unhelpfully labeled with little wavy lines. What the hell is that supposed to mean? Hot? Smelly? Water? She sighs and yells for Tracey.

"What?" Tracey snaps. "I messed up my eyeliner now!" She storms out of her room, wearing way too much makeup for seven in the morning.

"Coffee maker?" Pansy gestures vaguely at the machine. Tracey rolls her smudgey kohl lined eyes and pushes a couple of buttons muttering about Pansy's trust fund and sheltered childhood. Once Tracey and all of her banging and muttering are gone, Pansy watches the machine work. She slumps at the table in an oversized sweatshirt with the Hogwarts logo silk screened on it. Her head _hurts_.

After a shower, and some coffee, Pansy feels slightly more human, stumbling to her mirror and swiping on some mascara. She grabs a pair of sweatpants and a tank top, resigned to not caring. She looks awful anyway.

At the CVS, she's got a basket with three frozen pizzas, some blue hair dye and a container of Band Aids. She's debating between a pink razor and a green one when she sees some familiar looking black spiky hair in the shampoo aisle. She ducks down, throwing the pink one in her red basket. She scurries along the makeup aisle and towards feminine care, the one place he surely won't follow her. Shit, he's glimpsed her distinctive blonde hair. She hides behind a tower of Tampax. As she turns around, feeling pleased with her escape, she sees him right behind her in the security mirror. Damn. She turns around smiling awkwardly. What do you say to the guy who drove you and the drunk gay guy who qualifies as one of your close friends home last night in his minivan?

"Were you trying to hide from me?" He asks bluntly.

"Wh-whaaat? No!" She smiles extra big, trying to be convincing. His skepticism is evident.

"Well, why are you hiding in the tampon section then?"

"I'm not hiding!" She says too quickly. "I just, um, really needed some tampons." She grabs two boxes and throws them in her basket. He looks, if possible, more uncomfortable.

"So, did you get home safe last night?" He asks awkwardly.

"Yeah. It was- yeah." She shifts from one Ugg to the other. "I mean, you drove me so you know… yeahhh."

"Okay." He says. "Okay."

"Well, as lovely as this conversation has been, I have, um, girl stuff, to do…" He glances at the tampons in her basket and she turns three kinds of red. "N-not like that! God, no! Um, you know, like, charity?"

"You? Doing charity?" He asks. She flushes.

"Actually yes. Me and Daphne are going to volunteer at the animal shelter? It looks good for the press." She mumbles. "You know, 'Reformed Death Eater Princesses at Animal Shelter'?"

"Right." He says. "War stuff."

"Well yeah. I mean you don't think anyone forgot I almost turned you over to Voldemort did you?" She asks bitterly. "Just another pureblood princess who hated The Boy Who Lived."

"Okay then." He mutters, clearly unsure what to say. He jerks a thumb towards the front of the store. "I have to um- meet Ginny, so yeah. I'll just um-"

"Right!" She says too loudly. "Yeah, I should probably um- yeah. Get going." She hasn't been this awkward around a guy since third year. God.

He walks off, and she stands there and watches him go, still and silent, surrounded by hot pink Tampax boxes.

 **A/N: Yep. I updated it again. I missed Harry, and my muse is here, although how long she will stay is unclear! Better take advantage of that writing magic while it lasts! Please review, guys, it really makes my day!**


	7. Chapter 7

She stumbles to the check out and puts her basket on the plastic covered countertop.

Kim Kardashian yells at her from the glossy cover of a magazine, and Angelina Jolie smirks from another. The skinny seventeen year old girl behind the register chomps obnoxiously on her gum. Her red polyester vest has a nametag that reads "Hi, I'm Kelly! Ask me about our sale items!". Kelly smiles and informs her that her total will be $17.48. Pansy looks at the muggle money in her wallet with some confusion. She understands the larger denominations but the coins befuddle her. She pulls out a pair of crumpled tens and tosses them at Kelly. The muggle girl takes them, giving Pansy a glare. She stuffs Pansy's razor and tampons in a bag, practically throwing the Band Aids on top of them. She looks at Pansy in surprise at the three pizzas, somehow managing to shove every item in the same white plastic bag. The bag is already starting to rip where it's stretched over the corners of the pizza boxes. Pansy rolls her eyes and grabs the bag rudely. She ignores the coins that the girl offers her and stumbles out the door unsteadily.

Pansy goes to the park, bored with her life. She doesn't have anywhere to be until three, and she's already watched all the Project Runways she recorded. She finds a homeless woman, sitting on a bench and flops down next to her. The woman has tightly curly white hair standing out wildly from her head and a creased brown face. She looks kinder than the rest of the people, the joggers with their ipods and fitbits and the moms with their double strollers and lululemon leggings. The woman on the bench smiles at Pansy. It's so nice to be smiled at that Pansy feels that sick tight feeling in her chest unclench a little. She offers the woman a frozen pizza.

"Oh, no, I'm alright, honey." The homeless woman answers. "I can't really cook it."

"Oh." Pansy says, uncomfortably. It hadn't occurred to her that the woman couldn't cook the pizza. "Sorry."

"It's the thought that counts." The woman responded, patting Pansy on the shoulder. Then the homeless woman stands up and pushes her shopping cart of belongings away. Pansy sighs, feeling empty and useless again. She stumbles home and pushes the pizzas into the freezer. Tracy and Marcus are out, doing who knows what, so she puts Dirty Dancing on and grabs her hot pink nail polish out of the fridge. She fixes her toenails, paints them neatly, covers them in a protective clear topcoat, hiding the vulnerability of the pink against her skin beneath a safe clear coat of polish. Pansy spends hours making herself perfect, impenetrable for the charity event. She shaves her legs perfectly, moisturizes, does her eye makeup with extreme care. She finds a denim romper with cute piping and spaghetti straps. She swipes on her lipstick and pulls a white wide brimmed hat on. She digs in her closet forever before she finds the perfect pair of wedges. She is going to look so awesome that all those self righteous ministry officials will be unable to find a flaw. She practices innocent expressions in the mirror. Blows kisses at her reflection. Daphne texts her an hour before the event begging for help.

 _I need help_

 _srsly_ _pansy_ _i screwed up my smoky eye_

 **fine** **im coming over there**

 **did u use youtube again?**

 _look okay_ _not all of us have_ _a makeup team like u_

 _ur rlly spoiled_

 **am not** **ur dads just mean**

 _pansy i swear_ _you have 4 minutes or i wont let u borrow my new diamonds_

 **ugh fine** **on my way**

At Daphne's house, they perfect their hair and makeup and Pansy helps Daph with her eyeshadow.

"Pans, I don't understand what the big deal is about Draco? Like who gives a fuck?"

"I know, I know." Pansy replies. "He just used to make me feel like shit and apparently still can."

"What do you mean?" Daph applies another coat of clear gloss to her lower lip. "Was he like abusive or something? Oh my GOD. Did he hit you?!"

"No!" She exclaims. "He just would say stuff about how I looked good but not in a nice way."

"Oh." Daphne replies, not even looking at Pansy. "Well whatever. He was probably just trying to help you."

Pansy leaves unsaid the rest of it.

 _I almost don't notice your nose with you hair like that._

 _Pansy, for Christ's sake, are you losing it? Sweatpants? Really?_

 _Are you trying to look fat?_

 _God, you're smothering me._

 _Astoria always looks so pretty, Pansy, why can't you look like her?_

 _No manners_

 _Hate that lipstick_

 _Get over yourself Pansy_ **  
**

Pansy smoothes some extra tinted moisturizer over her cheekbones. She blends a couple coats of bronzer and blush on her smooth cheeks. She stares at her picture perfect reflection and swallows. Feeling rebellious, wanting to break that gorgeous facade. She smudges on some more eyeshadow, a little darker. She wipes off her pretty demure coral lipstick and pulls out a vampy sticky fire engine red. She carefully applies it, ignoring Daphne's irritation. She pulls on her shoes and grabs a shiny red clutch.

"Let's go."

 **A/N: I'm feeling pretty special, guys! I finished a chapter! Spring Break is a lovely thing. This baby is officially off hiatus, and I'm pretty sure I'll be able to post the last couple of chapters in the next couple of days. Please read and review! Sorry for abandoning this for so long.**


	8. Chapter 8

At the party, Pansy is bored as _fuck._ She's been schmoozing officials for her daddy for 37 minutes now, and she really wants a drink. Predictably, the only thing they will serve her are virgin pina coladas. She's over this. She sees Harry Potter lurking near the dessert table and storms over, feeling frustrated and a little wild. She's practically itching to be free of her skin. She's suffocating under a pile of expectations and assumptions. He looks at her in shock and she smiles a little smugly. His eyes flicker to her pushed up breasts for a moment and she tilts her head, smooth blond hair sliding under her hat.

"So… Potter. Doesn't seem like your usual scene…" She muses, tapping a manicured nail against her cheek mockingly. "No orphans to save, no adoring women to pick up, no babies to kiss…Just ex-Death Eaters and ministry officials…"

"Shut up, Parkinson." His neck flushes. God, she's feeling tired and reckless. She grabs his arm, smiling up at him and tucking her body against his. He swallows hard and she smirks. She leans in until her candy red lips are almost touching his ear and whispers.

"You wanna get out of here?" She's pleased when he gulps and his breathing ratchets up a notch. "We can go somewhere a little more private…"

"I-I-I have a g-girlfriend, you know." He breathes out. She smiles.

"I know." He shakes his head and steps away from her.

"Look, Pansy, I'm sure you have something better to be doing. I'm not going to cheat on my girlfriend with a snake who's bored." She swallows, rejected.

"Okay, fine." She responds defensively. "I can find someone else who isn't revolted by a 'snake'". She storms off, heading towards the bar. She lets a guy she's never seen before with blue eyes and beefy arms buy her a drink, then another. She's done caring. She throws back a shot and winces. He curls an arm around her shoulder and asks her if she wants to head back to his place. She smirks and leaves, aware of Harry Potter's disapproving stare.

She doesn't really remember much after that. She wakes up in a strange apartment, with blue eyes lying next to her and deduces what happened. She sighs and locates her romper, apparating back home quickly. She takes a shower and blow dries her hair. Her elves bring her cranberry scones and the paper on the terrace. Before she can look at it, her phone buzzes. She picks it up. Shit. 23 missed calls. Daphne's name flashes on the screen and she swipes it.

"Hi?" Daphne's voice blares out of her phone.

"Hi. Why did you call me 23 times?" Pansy snaps.

"Have you seen The Prophet yet?"

"No..." Pansy lunges for her newspaper nervously. She flips it open and doesn't see anything. She turns the page and winces. Shit. Her dad's gonna be _pissed._ Right below Draco and Tori's _pregnancy announcement_ are some frankly rather incriminating pictures of blue eyed beefy guy from last night twisted around her in the streets of Knockturn Alley. They are sufficiently racy to require black bars covering her chest and his face is blurred out. She must let out some sort of whimper, because Daphne responds.

"I know. Look, it's gonna be fine, I'll call The Prophet and threaten to sue or something. They're terrified of purebloods. Maybe Draco will be able to…. actually never mind."

"What do you mean? What happened with Draco?" Pansy knows she sounds needy but something hot and painful opens in her chest when Daph mentions him.

"He just...um… well he's using it as an excuse to not let you near the baby. When it's born, I mean. Apparently you're irresponsible. Look, you guys should really talk about… Oh, here he is. Hey, Draco, come talk to Pansy….Yes, you have to. Here, Pans." Daphne hands over the phone and Pansy swallows hard, digging her french manicured nails into her the top of her thigh.

"Look, Pansy," Draco's voice is comfortingly low and gentle. "Tori just doesn't want any scandal associated with the Malfoy name. You understand, don't you?"

"What?" She asks, mouth dry. "What are you saying?"

"I just think that maybe you shouldn't be godmother anymore. And Pans, we need you to give us space. We don't want any trouble for our family, okay?"

"I'm not...what...I'm going to do better, Draco, you know I'm trying!" She gasps out, feeling numb. "I need to… you have to… Please let me be godmother, you promised me that I could be part of the baby's life!" She's grasping at straws now, desperate to stay near him, to be close to him. He's a drug and she's a hopeless addict. She needs his abuse, she needs to keep coming back for more. She needs him to tell her how to live, to tell her who to be.

"No, Pansy, baby. You know I can't do that. You need to stay out of our lives. I've humored you for too long. Come on, honey. Just settle down. You need to change."

"Draco please," she begs unapologetically.

"Pansy." He's sharp now. "I need you to give me space. You need to go and figure your life out. I'm done enabling you. You threaten my marriage, my livelihood and now my child. I can't have that. Don't make me file a restraining order. Dial back the psycho. I'm done."

"No, please, just, come on, Draco. I've known you for so long…" She hears the click. She sits on the terrace, silent. All she can hear is her mother, dead now, telling her she's a failure. Draco doesn't want her. He never has. She's never, ever, been good enough for him.

She realizes she's crying and wipes her face on her kimono sleeve. All she hears is his disembodied voice coldly telling her to stop being crazy. She stands up, wobbling a little, and pulls on a dress that's too short, too dark, too low cut for day time. She puts on mascara and a swipe of sticky red gloss. She slides on thigh high leather boots and heads out. She needs to forget.

Two days later, she's made the paper again, and she lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, a mess of tangled hair and day old makeup. She feels like a limp noodle. Her father isn't speaking with her and has given her firm instructions via his secretary to _Behave herself or I will cut you off. I'm serious, Pansy._ Draco hasn't returned a single call or text and told her through Daphne that if she didn't stop he would contact his lawyer. Even Daphne isn't talking to her, having informed her that she had crossed a line and Daphne couldn't be associated with her right now. _Pansy, you know how precarious my social situation is right now. Stop being selfish and try to think about me for once. I need to get married, after all._ Pansy washes her face and sits on the edge of her sink. She stares into the mirror. She isn't pretty. She's a mess, with dark circles under her eyes and dry swollen lips from crying. Her face is a washed out yellow white and her hair is flat with hairspray. She bitterly muses that it's hardly a shock Draco doesn't want the pureblood screwup.

A week later Harry Potter's girlfriend cheats on him with Victor Krum, professional quidditch player. It's splashed on the front page of The Prophet, Harry's shocked face, Ginny's apologetic smile, Krum's smug face and crossed arms. Ginny leaves Harry for Krum, and the media swarms around Harry, desperate for an interview. Pansy sends him an owl with a letter, scented lavender, three sentences. _Heard about your girlfriend. My condolences or whatever. Seriously though, she's probably a self righteous Gryffindor bitch who doesn't deserve a do-gooder like you._ It's positively warm for her.

 **A/N: Who's keeping her promises? Here's the next one. I think probably two more after this one before the end. Maybe three if I decide to do an epilogue. Thanks for your support for this little fic.**


	9. Chapter 9

She decides to go to Italy. She needs to get away and Theo and Blaise are going anyway. They want to go to the Colosseum and take annoying couples pictures. When she announces that she is coming they exchange a glance and shrug. She is informed that they would be delighted to have her, which she doubts, but she books a portkey anyway. When she gets there she buries herself in tiny new bikinis and trashy paperback novels. She lies topless on the beach for hours. She buys pretty navy and orange espadrilles and swishy sundresses that are just a little too short. She grows out her blond hair below her shoulder blades and leaves it tousled and sunkissed. Her skin turns bronze and makes her blue eyes pop in contrast. She learns how to assemble a set of Ikea bookshelves and avoids romance at all costs. The boys who try to buy her drinks are quickly rebuffed. She leaves her shiny red lipstick in the bottom of her cosmetic bag and wears coral gloss instead. She gains a much needed 10 pounds and is pleased with the new roundness of her hips in her bikinis. Blaise and Theo leave after three weeks, but Pansy stays, making friends with Blaise's neighbors and watching Netflix. And she's good. She is. She can even pretend that she doesn't think about Harry Potter once. Which is mostly true. She has a vivid dream the second week she's there, just green eyes and _want_. She wakes up wide eyed and _hungry_ for something, she just isn't sure what. She tries to forget about it, goes out and spends her daddy's money at Victoria's Secret, but it doesn't quite work.

When she gets back to England, she feels better. Stable. She hasn't had a drink in a month, and she's tanner and softer and her hair is shinier. She walks through Diagon Alley with a confident sway of her hips and big Jackie O. sunglasses. She goes to Flourish and Botts and buys a couple of new books. On the way out, she runs into Hermione Granger. The other girl stares at her intensely, more of a glare than a stare, really. Pansy looks right back, head held high.

"I heard you were back in the country." Granger remarks coldly.

"Yes. It seems I am." Pansy responds, squelching the urge to make a comment about Granger's hair. The last thing she needs is to make the paper for bitchy comments about the Golden Trio's brains. "Haven't seen you since, well, my trial." She smiles insincerely. "So glad all that… awkwardness is over with."

"Yes, well." Hermione is clearly ruffled. "We all have different opinions on the proper outcome of that trial. Some of us rather feel it was a miscarriage of justice." Her hair practically crackles.

"Oh dear. I do so hate to hear that." Pansy snipes. "Well, I'd say it was nice to see you, but it rather wasn't." She spins on her lacy cork wedges and storms off, turquoise minidress swishing around her thighs. As she's parading out of the store, head held high, not looking where she's going and looking fine as _fuck,_ she makes contact with a person. Or more accurately, she crashes into a person. She registers a broad chest and wild black hair before she almost falls over. She raises her head, glare in place to growl at Harry Potter. He grabs her arms to steady her.

"I didn't know you were back!" Potter exclaims. He almost seems pleased to see her, so she needs to nip that in the bud.

"Yeah. Well." She responds. She sees Granger approaching and just to provoke her, leans into Harry's chest. She rests her chin on his shoulder and murmurs. "Did you miss me?"

"No. Why would I?" He mutters back, but she feels him shiver against her. She smirks.

"Maybe I missed you," She whispers, letting her lips brush the shell of his ear. His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows. He pulls away from her as Granger comes up to them. He flushes when Hermione skewers him with a glare and blatantly ignores Pansy. Pansy rolls her eyes and turn around, stalking off, tossing a 'later' over her shoulder. He runs after her, grabbing her arm to stop her.

"Did you really?" He asks, looking a little vulnerable. She smirks.

"I guess we'll never know…" She says, looking up at him through her hair.

"Well, do you want to get a drink or something?" He's endearingly unsure. She inclines her head, feeling the weight of her heavy silver necklace on her exposed collarbone, noticing the way his eyes flicker to the tops of her breasts, pushed up against the neckline of her dress.

"Yeah." She says, with a grin. If nothing else it will piss Draco off.

 **A/N: This one's a little short, but that's okay, right? Anyway, it's a bit of a filler chapter, as poor Pansy needed a break from all the drama and angst at home. Please read and review!**


	10. Chapter 10

Potter wants to go to the Three Broomsticks, which is a dump, but Pansy shows up anyway, fourteen minutes late, in a tight red dress with a slit up to her hip bone practically. When she sees him in the corner, she heads over, glowering at the various drunks who whistle at her.

Harry's awkward, and it's sort of grounding, knowing she's probably in better shape than him. He buys her a drink, and asks her questions about Italy. She tells him about the beaches and the tourists and the sunburns. She describes the ancient cathedrals and the gorgeous stained glass. He mentions Malfoy and then things get weird, as the force of Draco's personality takes up the space between them. He buys her a couple of shots, and soon Draco is the last thing on her mind.

Two hours later, she's feeling _good_ and everything Harry says is a thousand times funnier than normally. She knows she's almost drunk, but can't bring herself to care. She's just having so much _fun._ When it turns midnight he makes some Cinderella joke and she finds it so funny that she falls into him laughing. He looks down at her and then somehow they are kissing. His mouth feels warm on hers, no hot. He groans against her tongue, and then she's being pushed into the grimy bathroom and his hands are fucking everywhere and it just feels _so good_ to be wanted. It feels _so good_ to have someone gasping against her neck that she's _beautiful, so beautiful_ and that _God, Pansy, you're amazing._ She knows he just wants to get laid, but she's still whimpering embarrassingly loud when his thumb brushes the heavy curve of her breasts, his clever fingers manipulating her body and oh god that feels good. His fingers on her, doing something amazing that makes her whole body tremble. Somehow he apparates back to his flat, and then he shoves her up against a wall and tears the slit of her dress even higher, groaning into her mouth. And by the time they fall onto the bed she's so desperate, so needy, so alive that she can barely stand it.

The morning after is mortifying on so many levels. She wakes up in his bed, with his green eyes on her. He winces. She blinks a couple of times and says, voice scratchy from sleep,

"Hi."

He looks awkward.

"Um, this is weird." He mumbles. "I know that you're still hung up on Draco and everything, and I don't want to be an enabler or anything…"

"An enabler?" She asks him. It is way too early for this. "Believe me, that wasn't enabling."

"Right. Well."

"Oh." She swallows. "You like me or something?"

"Look, I think we can both agree this was a mistake, and um Hermione is coming over later, so it's probably best if you, well, you know." He says in a rush, a flush of embarrassment on his cheekbones. She looks at him incredulously. He sooo likes her.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She demands. When only silence answers her, she rolls her eyes. "Well then. Let's not talk like adults." She grabs her ripped dress off the floor, tugs it on. Finds her wand on the bedside table.

"Pansy, no hard feelings or anything, right?" Harry asks. "You understand why this can't happen though."

"Oh yeah," She says as sarcastically as she knows how, dragging out her words. "Absolutely. Totally. Because you're a big fancy war hero and I'm Death Eater trash. What ever will the papers say?"

"I didn't mean it like that," He sighs.

"Oh I'm sorry. Do I bother you when we aren't fucking?" She snaps. Her chest feels tight, and, no stranger to being kicked out the morning after, she somehow thought the great Harry Potter would be different. "I'll stop _bothering_ you with my feelings. Asshole."

"No, Pansy, look. I honestly didn't mean to offend you. I thought you wouldn't want to be caught here. You know, with me. Also, you don't like Hermione." He adds quickly.

"Oh." She feels like the asshole now. "Okay. Yeah. I'll see you around then."

She grabs her heels and hurries out of his flat, turning to give him a tentative smile. This guy, who keeps tripping her up.

Harry grins and grabs the back of his hair.

 **A/N: A little fluffy at the end there, guys. I mean a relationship can't be entirely structured on mutual angst. I needed some cute badly. Pansy and Draco still have some unresolved issues though, wonder what going to happen there? (I'm so sorry. I had to. Apparently my new thing is shameless plugs for my fic...) :)**


	11. Chapter 11

Pansy goes to Draco and Tori's house looking for Daphne who isn't answering her texts. When she knocks on the door an enormously pregnant Tori answers, an ugly teal shirt stretched tightly across her stomach. She frowns and leans her hip against the door frame. Pansy smiles artificially. She's acutely aware of her unwashed hair and day old makeup. She adjusts her low cut dress awkwardly, staring right at the woman who was better than her. Tori looks impatient, dark blond brows drawn down in a scowl.

"What?" She snaps.

"I was just- I just- Is Daphne home?" Pansy asks. She feels off balance, like she always does when she talks to Draco's wife. Awkward. Silly. Slutty. Tori is always so put together and judgemental and just plain nasty to Pansy. She thought that after all that time in Italy she would be more confident about this, but just like always Tori decimates her with a look. She can't stop glancing at Tori's huge belly, thinking about how that's _Draco's baby_ , the baby _she_ always wanted to have.

"Yeah, she is. Why?" Tori says shortly, looking as if she wants nothing more than to slam the door in Pansy's face.

"I just wanted to talk to her. She didn't answer my texts. I haven't heard from her in a while-"

"Oh, right. Your little jaunt to Italy. It wasn't enough to taint this country, you had to ruin Italy for me." Tori glowers, hand on one hip.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Pansy's shocked that Tori actually said that. Normally she's more passive aggressive. "I just want to see your sister, you don't have any right to pass judgement on-"

"Oh please. Stop the innocent act, you whore. I'm just surprised it's taken you this long to make another play for Draco. He's never going to take you back. He never actually loved you, you were just too stupid to see that. Can you imagine? A Malfoy actually choosing you?" Astoria's blue eyes are vindictive, and every word is low and venomous. Pansy's chest feels tight, hearing Tori spit out her own secret thoughts, late at night, after a bottle of wine and a bucket of tears. She swallows hard, wanting nothing more than to hit Astoria right across her smug face. Her ears are ringing and she feels silly and fragile, like a china doll, like one more nasty word will break her open and her blood will drench the steps. Awful truths, ticking like time bombs deep inside her mind. The fragility, the haziness, the shock of the moment. Astoria Malfoy shouldn't get to see her cry. Doesn't deserve to see her break. Her head is pounding, and she no longer wants to see Daph.

"Just tell Daphne that I came by." She says lowly, turning slowly around. As she takes the first step down, she hears Draco's voice and stops like she's been shot.

"Tori? Who's at the door?" She turns halfway, and sees him drape an easy arm around Astoria. She also sees the moment when he sees her, and the light goes out of him. He sighs and runs a hand through his pale hair.

"What do you want, Pansy?" He says resignedly. That stings more than Astoria's words. That he is actually disappointed to see her. That he doesn't want to see her, but also that he doesn't try to hide his distaste.

"I just wanted to see Daphne," She says quietly. "I understand when I'm not welcome though, so I was just leaving."

"Oh Pansy. Daphne doesn't want to see you. She told us that. Didn't you guys have a fight?" Draco replies, awkwardly. Pansy blinks slowly. Then nods.

"Yeah, yeah we did, but I just thought, I just, I miss her and I thought maybe we could talk," She trails off, and gives her head a little shake. "No. Right. Anyway, yeah. I'm leaving."

"Good." He says coldly. That one little word fills her with anger. Tears, but also fury. How dare he?

"How could you?" She asks him pointblank. "How could you do that to me? You dumped me, you turned all my friends against me, you married this icy bitch, you gave the Prophet awful information on me, and you keep reeling me back in and hurting me again and again. What the fuck gives you that right? How fucking dare you?"

He stares at her. Then he snaps.

"Pansy, you aren't quite right in the head. I worry about you, I really do, but I can't be part of your life anymore. And frankly, I think Daphne's right to get off your crazy train while she can. Before you careen off a cliff. Because one day you will realize exactly what you are."

"What am I, Draco? WHAT. AM. I." She almost shouts, hands clenched into fists at her side, Astoria fucking Malfoy looking at her with the snippiest little head tilt known to man.

"Psychotic." He says quietly. "Obsessed."

A tear rolls down her cheek and she stumbles away from him. She actually feels sick to her stomach. She swallows hard. Draco always wins. Now she understands. He doesn't love her.

"Okay." She says, the word almost a sob. "Okay. You win."

She holds her head up high as she leaves, despite the wet mascara sticking to her cheekbones in clumps, determined not to shame her father further. A photographer snaps a picture and she thinks distantly that she might make the front page again. She feels numb, distant, but also like she's flying. She feels like she has dropped a pile of expectations and disappointments and pain and she feels light as air. She may have lost the vital organ that was Draco's love, but maybe she doesn't need it. Maybe she can finally be done with him. She throws her head back in the middle of the street and laughs, slightly hysterically. It has just occurred to her that if he doesn't love her, then she doesn't have to love him. She's obligation-free. She turns back to where Draco stands in his doorway and she smiles, wide and easy.

"You know what? Fuck you, Draco! I'm over it! I'm done with you!" She doesn't sound angry, she is almost elated, incandescent with the intoxicating thought of her own freedom. She's free. She's fucking _magic_.

 **A/N: Yeah Pansy! You go, girl! Draco is now officially out of the picture! Who's having a little party?**


	12. Chapter 12

She apparates to Harry Potter's flat with a furious crack. She bangs on his door, and when Hermione Granger answers it, she pushes her aside and storms into Harry's flat. Hermione splutters furiously as Pansy grabs the front of Harry's shirt and kisses him, rough and slow, and hungry. When she lets go, he gapes at her. She grins at him, still feeling that brightness, that amazing freeing realization that she isn't in love with Draco any more. She's done with him. He doesn't get to make her feel anything any more.

"Pansy, what…?" Harry gasps.

"I figured it out, Harry." She tells him calmly. "I understand now."

"Understand what?"

"Draco doesn't love me. Did you know that?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I did."

"And that means I'm free. I don't have to love him any more." She responds, beaming. He looks confused. She sighs, men really do need step by step instructions.

"You don't love me, right?" She asks him.

"No? I mean, I mean, I _like_ you… But…" He splutters.

"Good. Good." She smiles again. "So you should take me out for dinner tonight."

"Why?"

"Because, Harry, I need you to teach me. Teach me about freedom."

 **A/N: This was a little longer than I planned, but here it is. Should I do an little baby epilogue or is this good? Please let me know in comments. Thanks so much for those of you who stuck with this fic despite the ridiculousness of the author. :)**

 **Lots of Love,**

 **Lady of the Green Kirtle**


	13. Chapter 13: Epilogue

"Harry?" Pansy yells down the stairs, blowing wisps of blond frizz out of her eyes. The apartment is hot and humid, the windows practically fogged up. It's ridiculous for England, even in the summer. She slaps another sticker on a cardboard box and adjusts her tank top where it sticks to her overheated skin.

"What?" He hollers back.

"Where are the dishes?" She calls. He appears in the doorway, shirtless, with his messy hair clinging to his forehead. She smiles at him.

"I don't know, sweetheart." He responds, looking around the room, vaguely. "Did you already put them in the van?"

"Maybe. I just found some mugs. I wanted all the dishes to be together…" She whines, frustrated. He sighs, and flops down next to her, throwing an arm around her waist. She leans into him, wrinkling her nose. "Why couldn't we just have elves do this?" She mutters into his skin. He grins at her and pokes her nose.

"Because we're moving the muggle way. You've never done it before. This is an _experience_ , Pansy." He teases, taking the sheet of blank box labels from her. He scribbles Mugs on one and smacks it onto the box. "There. Better?" He asks. She swings a leg over his bare torso with a smile. Leaning in close, as his hands come up to cradle her ribcage. He kisses her cheekbone. Her nose. She insistently redirects him until his mouth finds hers. Then, suddenly, she sits up, remembering. He raises his eyebrows.

"Did we pack the towels already?" She asks, tilting her head.

"Prioritizing towels over me?" He jokes. "Ouch." She smacks his chest.

"Your fragile little man ego can wait. We're paying the van by the hour." She reminds him. He winces.

"Fine. Let's get a move on." He winks exaggeratedly, and she cringes theatrically at the pun.

 **A/N: Here's a little epilogue. I didn't get to making Tori Malfoy horribly unhappy in this one, so perhaps a second epilogue is called for? You guys were pretty into the thought of her pain. :)**


	14. Chapter 14: Second Epilogue

Astoria Malfoy is furious.

The instant Scorpius was born and Draco had his heir, he stopped doting on her. Stopped caring. She is as invisible as the wallpaper to him. Melting into the background. A society wife. She is expected to socialize and bring honor to the Malfoy name. She is not allowed to cause scandal or discord. She is supposed to hold teas and balls.

To always have the newest dress and the highest heels.

To have the most beautiful son and the best manners and the nicest hair.

To have the best life. A reputation as spotless and pure as her white gloves.

Draco, on the other hand, can do whatever he damn well pleases. He can sleep with anyone, drink anything, gamble anyone under the table. He can swear and spit and scowl in public. The more he makes the front page, the better. He has well documented affairs with Ginny Weasley (poor and a Weasley), Hermione Granger (Mudblood Gryffindor) and even Daphne Greengrass (Astoria's own backstabbing sister). She's shocked he isn't fucking Pansy Parkinson too, although that bitch seems to have found a better catch in the Saviour of the Wizarding World. Gold digger. That same awful woman sent her a fruit basket after Scorpius' birth with a condescending note.

Astoria is trapped in a dying marriage, with a horrible, inattentive partner. Her mother-in-law hates her. Her father-in-law barely notices her. She isn't even sure Lucius knows which Greengrass daughter she is. Astoria Malfoy wants a divorce. Unfortunately, she has to wait it out 5 years before her prenup kicks in. She's trapped by herself in a huge manor, with a screaming baby she doesn't even want and a cheating husband. Who's cheating with her sister. Who also lives in the huge manor.

She buys things to comfort herself. Dresses and shoes and handbags and jewelry and smart little linen suits. She fills the manor with flowers and hires two nannies to raise her son. She drowns her sorrows in vodka and romance novels. She knows that she is a ridiculous, cliche, unhappy Stepford wife.

She just counts the days. Two years, three months, eighteen days, five hours, twenty three minutes until she can be free.

Maybe she can go to Italy. She's heard it's nice there.

 **A/N: Just a little play on Astoria's nasty comments about Italy. I'm such a brat. Well, this little story is complete, guys. Hope you liked it, it's certainly been fun to write.**

 **Lots of Love,**

 **Lady of the Green Kirtle**


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